


Prelude

by Fitzrove



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Workplace Relationship, no actual sex but the implications are kind of hard to miss, partially resolved sexual tension, tagging as mature to be safe, tbh more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzrove/pseuds/Fitzrove
Summary: It's nearly lunchtime, things are hectic at the station, and to top all that off, Morse has to deal with Peter, too.





	Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Once I finished one small Jarse fic, I couldn't stop, so I ended up doing this one pretty much straight after. It was fun ;D
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have feedback!

It was nearly lunchtime, and the station was busy, with uniforms and detectives alike coming and going constantly. Morse really should’ve used the time he had to keep working on the latest case - there was at least one certain witness and some potential ones as well, and there were some phone calls he needed to make - but his mind wandered so much that it was hard to remember what he was supposed to be thinking, let alone connect the dots to make sense of where he should start looking. And it wasn’t his fault.

 _Someone_ had been interrupting his work the _whole morning_ , stopping by his desk to ask seemingly important questions such as “ _how’s the case going_ ” multiple times an hour. The worst thing so far had been the one time Peter had leaned down from behind him to _look at the papers_ and just accidentally happened to put his hand on Morse’s thigh. The touch had lasted no more than a couple of seconds, but it had been very firm, and Morse had been unable to do anything but keep explaining what he had found out and act like there was absolutely nothing unusual going on.

Did Peter really have no sense of shame? Some days it was hard enough to focus on his work _without_ the man trying to make his life harder on purpose, what with the bastard leaning against walls with his cigarette or holding it very elegantly while speaking with someone. At this point, Morse was pretty sure it wasn’t even for show anymore, probably hadn’t been for a long time - Peter had simply been _posing_ like that for so many years that he had simply forgotten it was possible to smoke without doing that.

Nevertheless, the day dragged on, and there were times when Morse could almost forget the way Peter stared at him (which was very good, because it was getting harder to explain to Jim why he sometimes turned so red with no discernable reason. Must have been something about the weather).

The busy day didn’t stop Peter from cornering him on one of the few quiet corridors that remained, when Morse was returning from the loo. It was way too calculated to have been an accident, and Morse got an overwhelming confirmation for his beliefs when after a polite nod for a greeting Peter just straight-up shoved him in a dark, hidden corner Morse hadn’t really even noticed up until now.  
(He wondered if Peter had ever brought any of his girls to the station in secret and made use of the same place. Wouldn’t be completely impossible. The thought wrenched his gut a bit.)

“Peter, I -” Morse said in a tone as alarmed as he could possibly manage while still keeping his voice down as Peter pushed him face-first against the wall. _It was far too risky,_ somebody could walk in on them any minute, and then they’d have a _lot_ of explaining to do. A fistfight, perhaps, but they could get in trouble for it, and Thursday would be beyond suspicious because Morse and Peter had been getting along so well lately, and -

“Shh”, Peter whispered, lips trailing over the back of Morse’s neck and making him shiver. “Stay still.”

Morse was still worried, very much so, but the way Peter kissed his way to his ear before finally pressing his lips against his temple made him sure he’d go mad. Even if it was a _very bad time_ and _an even worse place_ , Morse couldn’t deny that he liked the feeling of being caught between the wall and Peter’s firm weight against him. As Peter held onto him and kissed him and touched him, it was getting really hard to ignore the fact that, well, _Morse was getting really hard as well._ He let out a sound - it couldn’t really be described as anything else.

“Hush, Morse. You don’t want people to hear something and come running to check it out, do you?” Peter asked, breathing heavily against the back of his neck, hands on his waist.

“Peter, _please_ ”, Morse said, not sure if he meant that the dirty talk was going a bit too far or that he _really wanted to make Peter wipe that cocky smile off his face_. Either way, he managed to keep his mouth shut when Peter kissed him again.

By the time Peter let him turn around Morse was, quite simply put, a complete mess.

“I’m going to go get some lunch now. I expect you to have sorted yourself out by the time I return, detective constable”, Peter said, still a bit breathless, but definitely not as badly as Morse was.

Morse had to spend a while gasping for air before he could respond. Peter waited patiently, hands oh-so-casually on Morse’s shoulders.

“Yes, _sir_ ”, Morse said, swallowing hard, not bothering to contain the dripping sarcasm in his voice. Peter looked at him for a moment, and had the audacity to wipe some sweaty strands of hair away from Morse’s face and kiss him chastely one more time before turning around and walking away like nothing had happened.

Morse had to lock himself in the loo for nearly five minutes to make himself look normal, and not like someone who had been suffering from both a severe fever and a case of being utterly wrecked by Peter Jakes. The redness in his face persisted in spite of the cold water he kept splashing on it.


End file.
